he's going to break his neck if he keeps turning like that

A Package Marked “Return to sender”

Story by reddit user manen_lyset

My neighbor is one of those annoying wannabe YouTube personalities. Over the years, I’ve seen him cough out cinnamon, lay flat on the hood of his car as it slowly creeps down the driveway, and douse himself in lukewarm water, all the while screaming epic win, epic fail, or, fuck, epic maintenance of the status quo, for all I know. It can get tiring to watch him go about his shenanigans in the pursuit of viral fame. So, when he knocked on my door the other day, told me he was going away for a few weeks, and asked that I get his mail, honestly, it was a relief. I can’t explain the peace of mind I had knowing I didn’t have to brace myself for any of his stupidity for a while. I was always afraid his stunts would wind up bleeding over into my life.

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BTS reaction- Being asked about you in an interview/variety show

Anon asked: “BTS reaction where the interviewer/host of a tv show asks them about you?❤️💙💛”

A/N: I am posting a reaction after SO long so I am very sorry if this isn’t up to my usual standards :) I promise the next couple of reactions will be better written!

**As usual gifs are not mine. Credit to the rightful owners. Images sourced from google images**

MASTERLIST


Jin

Jin would probably be very embarrassed and would be laughing so much. His ears would turn red while answering the question directed towards him but it just means he is happy to talk about you.

The camera panned to his red face as just a few seconds ago he had been asked about you. “So is it right? You went on your first official date?” the interviewer asked. Jin couldn’t stop laughing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before responding. “Yes. Yes were are officially dating. I hope ARMY’S can give us a lot of love, and support y/n and give her as much understanding and love as they give me” his ears had turned red by this point. “ When is the second date then?” the host teased. He turned to look at the camera. “ I am waiting for your answer y/n” and he handed the mic back to Namjoon prompting a lot of ooh’s from the boys.


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anonymous asked:

I wonder if Dark's neck is broken and his magic keeps it from getting worse. Maybe thats why Dark does the neck thing. Damien said did say that our body (now Dark's) is broken and we did fall from the stairs while looking up . . Now I'm just imagining Dr. Iplier doing a check up on Dark only to find his neck broken and maybe a few other things as well.

((Now, I have a few of my own wonderances for this that are different, but then you went and mentioned my doctor boy and damn it I like the way you think, mysterious configuration of being. Did you intend for this to become a thing? Because it is now. And sorry this took so long. It wasn’t quite turning out the way I wanted it to - in fact, I think it’s a god awful mess - but I hope you enjoy anyway!))

Warnings: Minor Graphic Detail, Mild Blood


It had started when Dark felt something move up into his lungs. It had been subtle, ignorable, and there had been no pain, not that something like him could feel any such physicalities anymore, so he had let it go in favor of getting on with his day. There had been much to do, idiots to manage, and the awareness had completely faded into the ether when there had been yet another kitchen fire that he personally had to see to.

And there the notion remained, until a cough brought it right back.

It was nothing; just something thoughtless, knee-jerk, and while he didn’t cough often if ever, it was still very ignorable. It twinged, like an itch from the inside, but a single, quiet cough was more than enough to alleviate the feeling once more. He didn’t have time for it. If King left one more peanut butter covered pinecone in the ceiling again, he was going to kick the pseudo monarch out for good. And Artiplier too for teaching that to him.    

But it as the day wore on, so too did the coughing become more common. He kept it subtle, having to mindfully push the feeling down now, because goddamn it Wilford had let Silver leap off another building again while he filmed it and, while the injuries this time were trivial, he was going to break something again, if he didn’t just outright kill himself next time and - are you even listening Wilford?

The pastel being had been giving him a strange look the entire time during his tirade and, at first he had chalked it up to the flippant man not listening as per usual, but it was only now in the irritated silence that he could hear exactly what was wrong.

Dark had been coughing the entire time.  

Suddenly, the itch was back with a vengeance, and he wasn’t sure when he had turned away with his mouth in his hands, racking coughs shaking his entire form, but there he was, hunched over with his back to Wilford as he desperately tried to get it under control. He felt a steadying hand on his back, heard his name called a few times in obvious concern, but his ears were filled with a high pitched ring that grew and cancelled all other noise until, with pop he felt more than heard, something within him finally gave. He choked suddenly, nearly gagging, as he felt something solid move up his throat to land sharply his tongue. It tasted sweet and smokey.

And metallic.

It took a short time and after a few seconds of aftershocks, his form stilled as the urge finally faded away. As the ringing died down, he could finally hear Wilford ask about his health again with a level of concern he hadn’t heard in ages from him, but, for the time being Dark could only ignore it, taking a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and spitting into it. He only saw for a moment before he pinched the cloth closed, hiding the object and everything that came with it from Wilford. But it had been more than enough for he himself to notice one very concerning detail.  

Everything had been red.

He straightened up, quickly pressing the kerchief into his breast pocket in a single subtle movement as he fixed his suit - giving his neck a quick readjust as well - before sparing Wilford a glance and a few words of comfort as he excused himself. He could see out the corner of his eye as Wilford looked like he wanted to persist, but Dark was out of sight before the pink ego could get out another word.

And it was here and now he found himself in the doctor’s office, perched upon the man’s own rolling stool instead of one of the many available beds - Wilford may have been content to let his legs dangle like a child, but Dark refused to be so undignified - waiting as the doctor looked over the proffered cloth with a scrutinizing eye. He was hemming and hawing and it was beginning to irk the already rather keyed-up demon, but before Dark could offer the physician a single chance to shut up or else, the doctor turned around to face him with an interesting level of curiosity in his eyes.

“Well?” Dark prompted, hands folded over his crossed knees, his posture stiff as it usually was, even if the reasons weren’t the same.

“I’d say this is part of a bullet,” The doctor offered in return, holding the now clean piece out to him in a pair of surgical tweezers. It was chalky grey in color. “This came out of you?”

“I don’t supposed I’d be here if it didn’t,” Dark quipped back flatly, but his interest had been piqued. A bullet fragment? When had he been…

Oh. Right.

“Fair enough. Who had the mettle to shoot you anyway? Was it Wilford?” The question was flippant, joking even, though with an undertone of implication because honestly the doctor had seen that particular instance more often than not, but it still hit Dark like an open palmed slap to the face. He could already feel the memories stirring, some of which did not even belong to him, and it took everything within him not to let his shell crack in that particular moment because if it did, he knew the consequences would be far more dire than with what had become the normal variety.

However, in a multitude of seconds that felt like an eternity, Dark managed to quell the feelings and disguise them as a single, solitary, disinterested sigh. At least, he hoped it came across that way.    

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I suppose not,” The doctor relented, either ignoring or oblivious to Dark’s pause as his attention returned to the lead fragment. Ignorance really was bliss. “But it obviously didn’t happen recently. See the flaky grey on the surface here? It’s started to corrode, which only happens after a long time exposure to types of alkali which doesn’t really - ”

“Correct,” Dark interrupted curtly, not at all interested in a chemistry lesson. “It wasn’t recent, but why is it happening now?”

Dr. Iplier shrugged, looking mildly put off for being interrupted, but true to his apathetic nature he let it go and pressed on. “Sometimes things just remain unmoved inside the body for years. I’d imagine it may have just been close by and, for whatever reason, just didn’t show itself until now. More to the concerning point, there are probably more in you that you aren’t aware of. Would you permit an x-ray?”

Now there was a question Dark hadn’t prepared himself for. It seemed absurd that he was thrown by such a simple request, and yet he couldn’t help balking about it all the same. What would be captured on that photo? What could be captured on that photo? He couldn’t afford to end the doctor if something more than what was currently happening turned up. The physician was quite the invaluable resource after all, especially for his blatant disregard of prying details. But all the same, it would be handy to know if this could potentially happen again, especially in front of others.

Especially in front of Will.

And it was with that argument that the demon finally begrudgingly agreed.

It was a surprisingly quick process and Dark was back in the stolen chair sans suit jacket and tie after just a few minutes. And it was only a few more before the doctor was shoving two freshly printed sheets of film into place on the light board before flicking the switch to illuminate them.

Now that was quite a sight. Seeing a set of bones and organs that he knew he himself had shaped was a curious thing, especially with the previous wonderance that, while his outward appearance may have taken appropriate form, his inward one may not have. And while he realized this was a silly contradiction, it had still held concern in his mind for a secret that nobody else could ever know about. Thankfully though, this didn’t seem to be the case.

But ever more curious were the lit up white spots speckled throughout his abdomen, and he couldn’t help but stare. He counted at least five, and none as big as the one that had so rudely extricated itself from him earlier. They didn’t even seem to be near anything necessarily vital either.

Not that that fact mattered anymore really.

So absorbed was he that he didn’t notice the doctor turn to him with a new level of concern, and Dark most probably would have continued to disregard him had he not made a rather urgent and out of place sounding request.

“Turn around,” The doctor demanded suddenly, his face taking on a panicky sort of grimness.

“Pardon?” Dark returned, surprised to find himself lost. That didn’t happen often.

“Turn around,” Dr. Iplier said more slowly, but with no less urgency than before. “I need to see your neck.”

“Whatever for?” Dark had an inkling exactly what for.    

“See this vertebra here?” The doctor impatiently poked his finger into the very top of the second x-ray, right next to his neck and that’s when Dark saw it. Damn. “That’s supposed to be nestled up to the bottom of your skull. Not to mention all these little white lines running everywhere else are microfractures.”

“And?” Dark asked with an air of disinterest.  

“Dark,” Dr. Iplier beseeched with exasperated concern. “Your neck’s broken.”

There was a beat before the demon responded with a simple and very dry, “Yes, I’m acutely aware.”

“And you’ve just been living this way?” That was a funny way to put it, but Dark refrained from commenting. “What the hell happened to you?”

The silence that followed was filled only with the hum of the x-ray display light.

Now that was a loaded question, and with the doctor looking down at him now with all the concern of a close friend, with almost the same face to match, it was reminding him too much of times he wanted to forget.

Times of when, during late nights at the office, a bespectacled face would just appear at the other end of his desk in the way only he could, wearing a knowing smile and bearing something to eat because he would often forget.

Times when that same face was sad for some unknown reason that just could not be spoken about, so he took it upon himself to cheer the man up with silly antics the same way he did for him.

Times where he would get so angry he would yell at the man just to come back later to apologize only to realize that no offense had been taken in the first place and their friendship was just the same as it had ever been.

… A single time where that face was on the verge of breaking entirely, and Dark could see him now, reaching out as he fell, the words echoing in his ears along with a hauntingly familiar, harsh ring.

Wait, that one wasn’t his.

“It was an accident! I swear!”  

He needed to leave.  

“Nothing that matters anymore,” Dark responded briskly, standing to pick up his coat and tie from the nearby bed and throwing them on with well-practiced grace. “Thank you for your time, doctor.”

“Now hold on a damn minute,” Dr. Iplier stepped forward as if he wanted to grab Dark’s shoulder, but then thought better of it at the last second. “I can’t just let you walk out of here knowing that you could keel over at any given moment.”

“I assure you that that’s no longer a problem.” Dark waved away impatiently, already turning toward the door.

“Your neck though! And all of that uncomfortable twisting I’ve seen you do. Those readjustments can’t be good for you. Aren’t you afraid of waking up one day and being completely paralyzed?”

“I defer to my previous statement.”

The doctor made a frustrated noise. “At least let me take care of the bullet fragments. How you haven’t suffered lead poisoning by now is a miracle.”

Dark sighed, turning back to the physician with a look of impassiveness. He knew the man wasn’t exactly heartless, but Dark honestly hadn’t expected him to be so insistent about his health. “Doctor, your concern is appreciated - truly - but going by that picture, I don’t see anymore near my lungs, so you have my word that it will be fine.”

“And what will happen when it isn’t?” Dr. Iplier fired back. He was implying more than just a health issue and the acknowledgment that Dark actually was a leader in all of this wasn’t missed. 

“Then I suppose I have you to deal with the aftermath,” Dark replied wryly.

Dr. Iplier made a face. Apparently he was the only one allowed to make apathetic jokes in the face of a potential crisis. “That’s not funny. I’m not an EMT, Dark.”

“I have faith in you, doctor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I never finished forbidding Wilford from encouraging acts of tragedy ‘for the sake of the show’ and would like to get back to it before someone else unwittingly winds up in your care.”

Dr. Iplier looked like he wanted to argue his point, but even he knew when to stop pressing - or perhaps that was just the lethargy - and he sighed, the sound heavy and laden with a weariness that Dark was all too familiar with. “Very well. Just… don’t hesitate to come back if any of it bothers you, alright?”

“You have my word.” And with that, Dark strode out with much more on his mind than he had going in. Of course the bullet would still be in there, shattered as it was. He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him. Just because his appearance had changed, didn’t mean the body had. It was the same principle as his unhealing neck, even if neither experience had happened to him directly. He was cursed to a nearly broken body that didn’t belong to him, held together with whatever power Celine had used and that void had bestowed upon him, physicalities stuck in a permanent state of stasis.

But he had no time for self pity. He had a building to oversee, and a goal to maintain.  

And as Dark walked purposefully down and out of the hall, he didn’t see the man he was looking for, hiding just out of sight in a nook beside the door, frozen in place with eyes wide and an otherworldly flower clutched to his barely breathing chest.

Wilford had just wanted to check on his friend. To make sure he was okay because never before had Dark’s health ever come into question, and the coughing fit had scared him so much more deeply than anything else had in a very long time. But while he was on the way to barging in, he’d heard his name and then… He’d heard everything else.

His mind swam, memories stirring in the watery depths like ancient beasts, lashing out against him a tirade of blurry and out of order images.  

A gunshot, a choke, a scream that seemed to echo from the very depths of his soul. 

He couldn’t be. He wasn’t.

The flower fell from his trembling fingers.  

He wasn’t a killer… was he?

Sugar, I’m Goin’ Down// Bad Boy Shawn // Chapter Six

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Chapter Five Recap:

Shawn sighs. He’s frustrated. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. I am. I can’t take it back, I can’t change it. I know this, but I can try to make amends and like I said I don’t want your forgiveness. I want another chance, no jokes, no Andrew, no one but you and me.”

You look up at Shawn and he’s got tears in his eyes. Something inside you breaks, seeing him like this, so vulnerable. “Shawn…” you sit up and he clenches his jaw and looks toward the window, eyes trained on nothing in particular. “Shawn, I’m sorry.” you don’t know why you’re apologizing, you hadn’t done anything wrong, it just felt like you had to apologize. Shawn’s nose scrunches up and his cheeks flush as he starts to cry. It’s heart wrenching, watching this guy who you’ve known to be nothing but a snarky sarcastic ‘bad boy’ fall apart right in front of you.

“Fucking shit,” he mutters and wipes at his face. “I shouldn’t have come over,” he says and heads for the door before you can say anything else.

Shawn shows up three days later in the middle of the night. You hadn’t heard from him since the morning you skipped class. You took it upon yourself to make copies of your notes and homework for him in case he needed it. After he left you had thought about everything he said. He clearly had feelings for you, feelings you didn’t know were so strong and you realized you had feelings for him too. It hurt, deep in your chest, when he had started crying. The way his nose scrunched up and he looked away, it destroyed you. Seeing him like that made you put aside the panty prank and want to hold him and protect him. He was turning out to be less of a bad boy and more of a boy in a bad situation.

So there he was, standing on your front porch and staring at you when you opened the door. You had been awake studying for a test and hadn’t realized the time until you heard the doorbell ring. Shawn looked pretty terrible even in the dim light. He looked like a man who hadn’t eaten or slept in a few days.

“I forgot to give these back,” he says, voice rough, strained. He holds out the panties he had taken from you for the prank.

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anonymous asked:

bichie soulmate au, maybe?

My favorite of the soulmate AU’s is where whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmates. However, a friend and I expanded on this a long time ago and included bruises and scars are shared as well, so GUESS WHAT I’M DOING

Modern!Soulmate!Bichie

Warnings: Hickies, mentions of sexual actions, jealousy

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anonymous asked:

Can I get a bts and exo reaction where you guys are in a heated argument and they say something really hurtful by mistake in the heat of the moment which causes tears to begin rolling down your cheeks. Thank you in advance xx

There wasn’t much to say about your fighting. When it happened, it happened. But there was always a way for you to resolve the problem before it got too heated. Today was different, though. You had never seen him so mad at you before and there didnt seem to be any letting up. At first you thought it was a stupid, pointless fight. You were busy and he was busy and this was just all his stress built and his load had finally blown. But he continued, and continued. You would have been fine. You would have been able to take it. But his words seemed to fall off a cliff as he shouted at you. ‘I should have never started this with you, I knew from the beginning this was a mistake and I would grow to regret-’ 
You knew he knew the moment he said it he didnt mean it. But that didnt mean his words didnt hurt. 

Junmyeon:

He knew exactly what he did and there was no way he could apologize enough for his words. He never had regrets. He only loved you from the moment he saw you. But as he watched you quickly wipe the tear that had finally broke free of your eyes and then re cross your arms his face soften and he took a half step forward, retreating when you took a step away from him. 
‘I didnt mean that you know I didnt mean that.’ He said getting slightly defensive, not wanting you to think about what he said any longer. When you nodded and looked down he finished closing the space between the two of you and engulfed you in a hug, hugging you tightly as you started to sob. He’d stroke your hair, trying to hide his own sniffles as he tried his best to comfort you from the damage he caused. 

Originally posted by lawlliets

Minseok:

He had half a mind to just walk away. To apologize and then leave you alone. But seeing the damage he cause he knew he couldn’t and he forced his tough side to the back of his mind. Even if you were furious and hurt by him, you needed him. He wouldn’t accept your protest when you told him to leave you alone. He wrapped his arms around your head and pulled you close to his chest, holding you tightly until you finally wrapped your arms around him and your sobbing slowed down. That was when he outlaid apologized for his words. He would only tell you once, it was all you needed to hear. He’d then rub your arms and tell you to go get in bed, where he’d meet you and lay down, puling you tightly to his chest and holding you close. When he thought you were asleep he’d whisper to you all the things he loved the most about you, all the memories that he held close to his heart. This, more than anything, was the real reason you forgave him. 

Originally posted by katherine8595

Yixing:

Panic would set in his chest. He couldn’t loose you. Not like this… not ever. He’d cover his mouth looking anywhere but you until your soft sniffles made him look back up so he could watch you walk into your bedroom and close the door. He wouldn’t know what to do. Did he go in there? Did he leave you be? He couldn’t believe that he had actually said that. That he had let himself get so upset over nothing that he would say something like that. He’d eventually talked up the courage to face you. He opened the door to see you at the very edge of your side of the bed with your back towards him. He’d hesitate in the doorway, but when you angrily took his pillow and sat up to throw it at him he knew you were mad, but not kicking him out. He’d take the pillow, look at you with sad eyes and leave, closing the door behind him. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at although, and neither could you. So when you appeared in the doorway and faced him on the couch he’d sit up instantly and wait for you to say something. When you walked over to him and laid on his chest, pulling the thin throw over the two of you he’d start tearing up, hugging you tight and laying soft kisses to the top of your head. 

Originally posted by layshands

Baekhyun:

The first few seconds he’d stand by what he said, until he realized what it was he had actually said. His face would soften and he’d start rubbing the back of his neck, stammering that he didnt mean to say that. He’d watch as the tears fell silently down your cheeks and you avoided eye contact at all costs. ‘I didnt mean that. I don’t know why I said it.’ He said softly, all the anger in his voice and face fading instantly. He’d watch you as you backed into the cabinet and sunk to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees and pressing your lips into your shoulder so it didnt look like you had started to ugly cry. He’d sit across from you and put his head in his hands and wait until he felt it was safe to scoot next to you so he could put his arms around you and pull you into his chest where he let you cry until you were out of tears. Thats when he’d look at you with sad eyes, tilting your chin up so you were looking at him. He’d wipe a tear away before  asking you if you thought he meant it. When you shook your head he hugged your tighter and said ‘Good. I never want you to think that I don’t love you with my whole heart. 

Originally posted by tipannies

Jongdae:

He’d just stand there and look at you, not saying anything, not moving towards you, not even really looking at you. He’d wait to see if you were going to say anything. If you were going to yell, or hit him or show some sort of emotion to respond to the way he had acted. But you didnt. You just stood there, silent tears running over your cheeks as you waited for him to say something. The longer you waited the more you started to believe he was actually telling the truth. That he didnt actually think the two of you would work and all this was just a show. But as you sighed deeply and whispered for him to get out before walking to your room, he grabbed your arm. Thats when you could see the tears that were in his eyes and the pain that he was feeling. He’d tell you he wants going anywhere. That he wouldn’t know where to go or what to do once there, ending with him saying he was sorry. A very heart filled sorry that were accompanied with his eyes slightly reddening and getting glassy with tears. He’d sigh when you allowed him to pull you into a hug, so thankful that you weren’t pulling away and when you finally wrapped your arms around him he sniffled and said he was sorry again.

Originally posted by galaxychen

Chanyeol:

He’d begin to stutter a strong of no’s that started at just a soft, barley audible whisper and turned louder as he noticed he had mad you cry. He’d pull you into his chest and hold you tightly so quickly that you wouldn’t have a chance to protest. He’d say he was sorry over and over, every nerve on his body aching as he waited for you to wrap your arms back around him. But you didnt. You just stood there listening to him apologize over and over wondering if he even meant it. When he caught on that you weren’t accepting his apology he’d let go, his heart breaking again as he saw the hurt on your face he’d take your cheeks in his hands and stroke them with his thumbs, just waiting. When  you nodded and sniffled he’d left out a soft, dry sob before kissing you like he would never get to kiss you again, still muttering I’m sorry’s against your lips. 

Originally posted by loverkoreanasian

Kyungsoo:

His hand that was pointing at you would slowly move to rub against his lips, his eyes leaving your shocked expression as he tried to figure out what he could possibly say to fix this mess. He wouldn’t have even realized you were crying until you sniffled a minute later, making him look back to you standing with your back now half turned to him as you looked out into the living room, also trying to figure out what to do. When you started to walk away he’d just watch you and eventually follow you into the bedroom where you were once again just standing there, not sure what to do. He’d wrap his arms around your shoulders and breath deeply, expecting the worst to come from that situation. He’d hold on to you for as long as possible before letting go and keeping one hand on you  just to make sure you didnt walk away from him. When he was facing you he’d take your hand and look at you for a while before pushing your hair behind your ear. ‘I love you so much.’ He’d say. ‘Thats not what you just said.’ You tested, tears rolling down your cheeks again. He’d sigh, knowing you were right. all he could say was you were right and he’d ask you if he would sit down and talk to him so he could prove just how much he loved you. 

Originally posted by glorious-soobooty

Jongin:

He would drop into the seat behind him, completely mortified that he had let himself get that far. He’d stare at you, his own eyes filling up at the sight of you crying. He’d just watch you, completely lost for words until you walked up to him, already knowing he didnt mean it. You two talked too much for him to have been lying to you for so long. When you tried to touch him he’d pull away, blaming himself entirely and letting you know that you shouldn’t settle for him. He’d beat down on himself so much that you would have to comfort him, wrapping your arms around his head and trying to contain your tears as he held onto you  tightly. He’d let you rock him back and fourth for what felt like hours until he finally looked up at you. He would apologize one more time and you’d shake your head, telling him that you knew exactly what was going on and that you knew he didnt mean it. He’d ask you if he could sleep with you tonight, smiling sadly when you chuckled and nodded. That night he’d hold onto you so tight you wouldn’t be able to sleep due to his body heat. but you couldn’t mind. You would just hold onto him tighter because you know that he would never do anything to make you cry again. 

Originally posted by nikaiv

Sehun:

He was shaking with anger, so much anger that he didnt realized the words that come out of his mouth. He almost started to continue until he noticed you crying. You never cried. He stare at you, eventually asking you what was wrong with you only to have you hold up your hand and shake your head, indicating for him to stop before you turned and made your way to the bathroom. He could hear you trying to hide the sounds of your cries through the door when he went to go talk to you. Thats when he’d realize that he actually said the one thing he never thought he would. He’d put all pride away right there, banging on the door and begging you to come out. That he didnt mean it and that he loved you so much. Cliche things that seemed to only hurt you more. When you stormed out of the bathroom and started hitting his chest while trying to get him to leave he’d just pull you into a hug, acknowledging the fact that me messed up and trying to calm you down, telling you all of the things he loved about you, trying to prove that he couldn’t in a million years regret ever being with you. As much as you protested and didnt want it to effect you it did and you ended up letting him embrace you and shower you with love.  

Originally posted by sehunnicorn

Kitty

The Wolves are Silent, and the Moon Howls: Ficlet

I have reached 400 followers… WHAT?!?!?! So, here’s a little gift from me to you ❤


The russet wolf stared, bright eyes impassive.

Friend or foe? I wondered. It was so difficult to tell with wild animals such as this. So much relied on body language, most unfamiliar to the human mind.

But, his teeth remained safely behind his lips, and, for that, I was grateful.

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Promise

He finds Lance waiting on his bed for him when he returns to his room, and can tell from a single glance that Lance knows. That somehow— either because Matt or Coran told him, or because he just understands Keith that well, even after so many months apart— Lance knows exactly what happened while Voltron was fleeing Naxzela. What Keith had been prepared to sacrifice. What he’d nearly done.

Lance looks up at the hiss of the door sliding shut. He hasn’t even changed out of his paladin armor. Not fully. His arm guards and chest plate have been removed and discarded on the floor, but otherwise he looks just as he did when Voltron finally reached the Castle again— singed, disheveled, and staring at Keith with large, mournful eyes.

Keith can’t bring himself to meet those eyes. They’re even more blue than Keith remembers, and so full of hurt it makes Keith’s chest ache. Lance should never have to look that way about anything. Particularly not because of him.

Keith turns away and takes his time removing his black, Marmora armor. He can’t bear to see Lance so upset. Can’t stand the heavy silence between them. The thick tension just waiting to snap. Can’t stand it at all, but also can’t think of anything to say to dispel it. Words were never his forte, after all. He was much better with actions. Except, this time, his actions are what’s causing this situation, and he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

He hangs his armor in his closet— the one spot of black among all the red and white he’s so used to wearing. A visual reminder of all he’s left behind. All he’s given up so his team can keep moving forward. Across the room, Lance shifts. He shifts, and he clears his throat, and Keith closes his eyes, waiting, as always, for Lance to cut through the tension. For the berate that’s surely on his tongue. For the angry words and endless rants he’s come to expect from Lance.

It doesn’t come, though. When Lance finally speaks, it isn’t loud, or enraged, or anything Keith’s used to. It’s soft, instead. So soft he barely hears it. And so rough and broken it nearly breaks his heart.

“Keith,” Lance murmurs, voice shaking even over that single word. “Why?” Why did you leave? Why did you abandon us? Why did you give up? “You glorious, reckless idiot. Why did you do it?”

Why did you almost let yourself die?

Keith swallows thickly. “Something had to be done,” he answers. “It was the only choice.” He glances over his shoulder at Lance and gives him a sad smile. “After all, the universe needs Voltron. It doesn’t need me.”

“We need you,” Lance protests, standing. He crosses the room in three quick strides and turns Keith to face him, hands gripping Keith’s shoulders like iron vices, and the most serious expression Keith’s ever seen across his face. “I need you.”

And if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing Keith’s ever heard. Because if either of them needs the other, it’s not Lance. It’s not this boy who shines so brilliantly, who is everything Keith has ever wanted to be and more, who could probably charm the whole universe into peace if he really put his mind to it.

Keith’s smile turns wry and he shakes his head. “No you don’t, Lance,” he says, emphatically because he needs Lance to understand. “You don’t need me. Just look at everything you’ve done.” Look at all the people you’ve saved and inspired and encouraged in a way that I never could.

It’s not enough to convey everything Keith thinks about Lance, of course, but he honestly doesn’t think any words in the English language (or any language, even) will ever be enough. There’s no way to describe the way Lance shines in his element. The obvious joy he brings to his flying, and the fierce passion that flares through his fighting. The excitement he exhibits whenever they find a new ally. The way he draws people to him without any actual effort. The way he cares and protects and gives hope wherever he goes.

He’s a much better paladin than he gives himself credit for, and much more valuable to the team than Keith ever could be. Keith’s absence over the past few months has proven that. Has shown Voltron can continue, and even thrive, without him. That they would continue to do so even if Keith had died. They’d still have their heart, after all— it’s right there inside Lance. He’s the drive that pushes them all forward, and the glue that holds them all together, and if Keith can keep that alive by sacrificing himself, he doesn’t consider death too great a loss.

Clearly, however, Lance doesn’t agree. “That’s not what I meant,” he chokes out, voice watery and blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s not what I meant at all, you idiot. This isn’t about the team, or Voltron, or even the whole goddamn universe.” His hands shift, sliding across Keith’s shoulders and up his neck to cup his face. Keith fights not to lean into the warmth of Lance’s hands, but when Lance gently tilts his head back he knows it’s a lost cause. He’s so weak to the man standing in front of him. Weaker still to the way his bright blue eyes bore into Keith, more intense than they’ve ever been before. More urgent. More desperate. More filled with longing.

“I’m your right-hand man, aren’t I?” Lance asks softly, so close now that Keith can feel his warm breath against this skin. “We’re in this together, you and me. I’d follow you to ends of the universe. So just please,” he pleads. “Please. Promise me you won’t go where I can’t follow.”

And how can Keith say no to that?

The tears are falling down Lance’s cheeks now, wet streaks against his dark skin. And, this time, seeing Lance so upset over him, over the near loss of him, Keith’s heart does break. It cracks and shatters under the weight of Lance’s grief, and Keith already knows it will never fully recover. Even if he tries to tape it back together and pretend it’s all alright, there will still be fragments missing— little shards that will belong to Lance, and Lance alone, whether Lance realizes that or not.

Keith closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He turns his head into Lance’s hand, pressing his lips lightly against Lance’s skin, and if Lance is surprised by the gesture, he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t try to pull away or even protest.

“Ok,” he murmurs against Lance’s hand. “Ok, Lance. I promise.”

He’d do much more for Lance if Lance ever asked it of him, but supposes this promise is a good place to start. And when Lance smiles for the first time all day, and then pulls Keith into a tight embrace, he wonders why he ever thought leaving was a good idea. Lance’s arms are warm around him, more comforting than anything Keith’s ever known, and beneath the palm Keith’s spread flat against Lance’s back, he feels the faint, steady thump of Lance’s heart. Takes comfort in the fact that Lance is alive and well and right there with him. Takes comfort in the fact that Keith himself is still alive to feel it.

And, for now, that is enough.

Reunion

“You grew up.”

He laughs, rough and edging just slightly on bitter.

“Yeah, that happens when you disappear for two years.”

Derek’s eyes flit downward, and Stiles waits for him to comment on the FBI vest strapped to his chest but he doesn’t. His eyes only go so far as Stiles’ mouth, flicking back to his eyes and then down again, lingering, before sliding away. A warmth blooms out from Stiles’ chest, crawling up his neck and coiling downward, and this definitely isn’t the time for this but they haven’t seen each other in a year and a half, not even pictures because why the hell would Stiles have a picture of Derek (and he’s spent too long cursing not having pictures of Derek) and he finds his own eyes lingering.

“…You look exactly the same.” And that’s not true because Derek actually looks better, but there’s no real way to explain that Stiles hadn’t been able to hold all of the goddamn perfection of Derek’s face in his memory. He’d thought he had, but his eyes keep flitting around now and holding, catching on little details, little rushes of rediscovery in those eyes, that jaw, his teeth, his mouth, his…

Stiles wets his lips, and Derek’s looking again.

“We should––”

“I should have called,” Derek says at the same time, and Stiles blinks, breaking off, confusion pinching his brows because Derek hadn’t known Stiles was coming. He’d had no reason to call. Except… “After… Peter told me what happened, and I…”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but it wasn’t any less fine than anything else from that shit show. It wasn’t any worse than Derek leaving town and getting rid of his phone to begin with.

“I felt sick the whole time you were gone,” Derek presses on, quick and urgent, like the words had been fighting for months to bubble loose and are finally breaking free. “I felt… Cora said it seemed like I’d just… emptied out. On the full moon, I could barely––”

Stop it.” It stung, because he’d thought Derek would care. For the longest time he’d felt like Derek should care, and deciding he didn’t was the first stepping stone to pulling himself together after… after the Benefactor.

Or… fuck, maybe Derek had cared, but he hadn’t cared enough to stay, to keep in contact, to check in when Stiles had needed… needed someone.

No, fuck. Needed him.

“This isn’t the time,” he says, firmly, because a fucking FBI SWAT team is nearby somewhere and there’s still a target painted on Derek’s back, and the fact that Stiles wants to crawl onto his lap and beat the crap out of him at the same time doesn’t matter, because Stiles is here to save his life. Again.

Derek parts his lips, looks like he wants to argue… and ends up just nodding, looking away up the street.

Stiles makes it a whole three steps toward the next corner before swinging back on him, balled fist smacking his bicep.

“Why didn’t you call?”

Derek doesn’t flinch at the blow. Sighs softly. When he meets Stiles’ eyes, the look in them’s enough to send months of coiled anger scattering.

“I would have gone back.”

“…What?” Stiles feels breathless on the word. Derek looks away, hands lost in the depths of his pockets and stance set in the defeated posture of a man with no way to win.

“If I’d heard your voice. If you’d asked. If you’d even sounded anything less than happy––” He grits his teeth, sharp and sudden, head ducking against some ugly thought. “…And I didn’t want to hear you happy, either.” That falls out lower, tight and rough like a secret shame.

“You didn’t want to hear me happy,” Stiles echoes, numb, and then slowly: “Without you.”

And he only understands Derek’s meaning because it’s been echoing in his own chest for over a year–– that stupid, selfish war of wanting to know he’s happy, and not wanting to know he’s happy, not wanting to hear him making a life and finding bliss in a way Stiles couldn’t give him. He’d always wanted to know Derek was doing well, so much that he’d lain up at night sometimes picturing new, bright, sometimes ridiculously corny futures for him… but the thought had always been as agonizing as it was hopeful and Stiles had never slept well afterward. And then he’d spent other nights up hating himself for being selfish enough to half-hope Derek might not be happy.

Might fail out there in the world, and come home.

Derek’s eyes are on his again, wide and shock-soft in a way Stiles had only glimpsed on him once before: the rush of thinking you’re alone in the world and realizing for one beautiful instant that you’re understood

He can feel a matching expression lighting up his own eyes.

“We’re idiots,” he breathes, and Derek shakes his head, barely seeming to feel the movement.

“I couldn’t go back there.”

“But you could have known I fucking missed you as much as––” He breaks off, despite everything suddenly unsure. “…you missed me?”

“I missed you.” Derek promises, not missing a beat.

“You missed me,” Stiles echoes, and it’s everything he never knew he needed to hear. They watch each other for too long, stunned, awed stillness.

And then the slam of a car door in the distance pulls them back; reminds them where they are and what’s happening. Derek blinks away, looking out and alert toward the street, but Stiles can see a faint flush around his ears, a happy pull that won’t quite die on his lips.

“This isn’t the time,” Derek says, and Stiles nods. There are villains to stop. People to save.

“This isn’t the time,” he echoes, but he’s smiling as he turns to head up the street. “Later.”

It sounds like a promise worth keeping.

msdistress said: I saw that civilized werewolves being super competitive when it comes to other packs, and now I can only imagine an AU where (adult) Stiles and Scott are renting a house together, and Derek moves in the same area. And while the McCall pack and the entire Hale pack (Talia, Laura, etc.) are on civilized terms, Scott and Derek just can’t help themselves. And maybe a part of the showing off is actually a way to impress (court) Stiles, as in “My lawn ornaments are much nicer than his!”

So this is kind of that, but kind of not? This is pretty silly :) Happy Halloween!


“You’re not dead,” Stiles says as Scott bangs open the door and shucks off his shoes in the next movement. They hit the wall and then bounce into an ungainly pile in the middle of the hallway that Liam will no doubt trip over when he gets home.

“Nope,” Scott says. He looks confused by that part.

“So… That’s good?” Stiles has pumpkin guts all over his hands, but offers Scott a fist bump anyway.

Scott follows Stiles back into the kitchen and then plops down across from Stiles’s half-finished jack-o-lanterns at the counter. He’s a couple weeks early, but Halloween has to be taken seriously. These are practice pumpkins.

Scott says, “It was weird. I think they’re all models. They force-fed me pie.”

Stiles arches a skeptical eyebrow.

“I mean, the pie was great,” Scott says, face screwed up. “I think they were happy I ate the whole thing?”

Werewolf metabolism, Stiles thinks sourly. He’s getting to that age where he has to watch his beer and pizza intake. It sucks. He says, “I’ll make them brownies,” and then apparently it becomes a thing.

*

Stiles doesn’t know if the Hale pack are actually all models, but they’re definitely taking the supernaturally hot thing to a whole other level.

Scott’s betas are reasonably attractive, sure, but Liam’s the size of a cave troll and Mason’s on this whole hippie-chic kick that makes him look like a train hobo.

Stiles holds out the plate of brownies and tries not to stare at Erica’s boobs. Boyd has the bulging chest of a roman gladiator and Stiles could cut his hands on Isaac’s cheekbones, it’s insane.

Stiles says, “Nice to meet you guys,” and Erica’s lip curls up and her hands hover around the plastic-wrapped plate like it’s made of poison and-or possibly oatmeal. He waggles the plate back and forth. “Promise they’re wolfsbane free.”

And then Jackson fucking Whittmore comes swanning down the staircase and Stiles says, “You’ve got to be shitting me. Jackson?”

“Stilinski,” Jackson says with a scowl.

“Lydia told us you got eaten by a giant lizard.”

Jackson scowls harder. “Fuck off.”

Stiles would like to say that the addition of Jackson makes the pack less appealing, but despite having the personality of a canned ham, Jackson still looks like he was carved out of marble. Balls.

And then someone says, “Do I smell chocolate?” from behind Stiles and he definitely does not jump three feet into the air, but it’s a close call.

He flinches and spins around and says, “Fuck my life.”

The hottest mountain man Stiles has ever seen is frowning at him and Stiles wants to bury his entire body in his beard. He wants to weasel his way under that soft-looking Henley and lick his collarbones. Stiles is ninety-nine percent sure this is Alpha Derek Hale, even though Scott had failed to prepare him for the way Derek’s eyes are eating Stiles’s soul.

Stiles wordlessly holds out the plate of brownies.

Derek takes them with a resigned silence. No one else is saying anything either, and the back of Stiles’s neck is starting to prickle with unease. Are they going to eat him now? They’d moved into town so Liam and Mason could go to the local college, expecting some kind of resistance, territorial posturing, possible brawl for dominance, but Scott had been tirelessly optimistic—even more so since the pie eating thing.

Stiles slinks around Derek, hands up. He says, “I’ll just, uh… leave now,” and backs down the sidewalk so he can see any kind of attack coming. He’s got a taser in his back pocket and he’s not afraid to use it.

The Hale pack all watch him with narrow, calculating eyes and Jackson gives him the finger.

Stiles thinks that if this is the way they react to brownies, he’s going to bake them a motherfucking cake.

Keep reading

I know a lot of people are upset that we didn’t get to see Dean carry Cas’s body into the house—and don’t get me wrong, I wanted to see it too; but can you imagine them actually trying to film that scene? It would’ve been impossible!



Attempt 1:

“Okay—just jump up here” Jensen says, squatting down some and holding out his arms.

“No way!” Misha yelps instantly, backing up a few paces.

“Why not?”

“You’re gonna drop me!”

“I won’t drop you!” Jensen scoffs, opening his arms wider now and motioning for Misha to move.

“Hell no! As soon as I jump, you’ll drop me.”

“I’ve carried you before, man. Did I drop you then?”

“That was for photos and shit—two seconds tops. This is a whole scene!” Misha argues, putting his hands on his hips.

“C’mon, guys! Are we doing this or what?” Phil calls out from somewhere behind the monitors.

“Yep!” Jensen answers quickly and then motions to Misha again—this time, with an urgent look on his face.

Misha rolls his eyes but eventually moves in closer, bracing one hand on Jensen’s shoulder before throwing his own body into the air.

Jensen grunts.

They both immediately tumble to the ground.


Attempt 2:

“Dude—why are your arms around my neck?”

“I don’t want to fall again!” Misha whines, looking warily towards the gravel as Jensen scoots along.

Jensen breathes out a strained laugh at that . “Yeah, but you’re supposed to be dead. This is kinda killing the illusion.”

“I don’t think so” Misha mutters, obviously choosing to be difficult now.

“Seriously, dude? I can’t carry dead-Cas inside, bridal-style!” Jensen huffs, shifting his arms a little to try and keep Misha’s weight in the air.

“Why not? You carrying me to my death bed is pretty much the same as you carrying me to the marriage bed … especially on this show.”

Jensen quickly drops Misha again.


Attempt 3:

Jensen is out of breath—and his back is hurting like a mother fucker, but he hunkers down to lift Misha up once more.

And this time—Misha slumps his body backwards and completely relaxes his muscles, which nearly breaks Jensen in two.

Oof! God—damn!” Jensen grunts, trying desperately to step forward across the dirt and grass. “It’s like—ugh—carrying a—agh—a sack of wet leather!”

Misha slits one eye open and smirks at his costar. “You’re so sweet, Dean. This is why I fell for you in the first place.”

He’s prepared to be dropped this time, and he laughs as he rolls out of Jensen’s arms.

“What’s goin’ on, guys?” Phil yells out across the clearing.

“Nothin’!” Jensen wheezes, bending his body over his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “Just—just need a minute!”

A second later, Jared is bounding up to them. “Hey, y’all okay?”

Misha chuckles and goes over to pat Jensen on the back. “Yeah—someone just needs to spend more time lifting weights.”

Jensen immediately sneers up at the other man. “And someone else needs to lay off the pizza!”

“How about I be the one to carry him in?” Jared says suddenly—loud enough for Phil to hear it too.

“We could try that” Phil says, sounding frustrated and just eager to get this scene over with.

“What?” Misha yelps. “No way! No, no, no, no, no! No way Jared is carrying me!”

“Wha—why?” Jared asks, feigning some puppy dog innocence that is damn near Oscar worthy.

“You know exactly why!” Misha insists, taking several steps backwards to be out of the moose’s long reach. “Phil! You can’t be serious! Jared is just going to throw me in the lake if we do it this way!”

Jared’s face bursts into a giant grin, and his eyes sparkle like a Disney character whose wish just came true. “The lake! I didn’t even think of that!”

Misha groans loudly, and Jensen is laughing– all while Phil is angrily rubbing his temples behind the monitor.


Attempt 4:

“Are we ready yet?”

“One more sec, Phil!” Misha answers, turning back to look at Jared and Jensen with a face of warning.

“How about we both carry him in?” Jared suggests, and it sounds genuine but Misha still isn’t falling for it.

“No! Not gonna happen! Then you’ll both just throw me into the lake!”

Jensen rolls his eyes but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “No we won’t, man. Seriously—we’re losing the light here. We need to get this done.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that? But this is my dead body we’re talking about and I need to make sure it’s respected!”

“We’ll respect it” Jared insists.

“Since when have you ever respected it?” Misha counters.

“Okay! Alright! Just… Jared, get back there—we’re gonna try this again the way it’s scripted, okay?”

Jared holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, but I’ll be over here if you need me.”

“We won’t need you” Misha warns, knowing Jared’s deviousness all too well and it’s starting to make him break out in hives.

Jared laughs but finally backs away, until he’s far off on the other side of the set.

Jensen then takes a deep breath. “Okay, man. Let’s go. Let’s do this.”

Misha nods, and they both seem determined now.

With a heave and some careful balancing, Misha is once again in Jensen’s arms and Jensen is once again, huffing his way to the front door of the cabin. He’s huffing a lot … he sounds like he’s in pain.

“You okay?” Misha whispers, trying not to look up or move his mouth much—because, he is dead after all.

“Fine” Jensen wheezes shortly, but he doesn’t sound very convincing.

“You sure?” Misha asks again.

“Shh!” Jensen snips, trying to concentrate.

Misha finally peeks up at him. “Your face is really red.”

Jensen doesn’t answer, he just strains to keep Misha in his grasp.

“And your veins are popping out of your neck.”

“I’m acting” Jensen finally grunts.

Acting—constipated?” Misha asks.

“Shut up!”

“Ow—okay, now you’re pinching my ass!”

“Well, I need to hold onto something!”

“You need to hold onto my ass?”

“It’s got the most grip.”

“Okay … okay … now that just tickles!” Misha starts to laugh, squirming a little and it eventually  throws Jensen off balance.

“F—fu—fuck!” Jensen wobbles to one side and sends Misha rolling dramatically  onto the ground.

“I can help!” Jared yells out, sounding so excited, he might just burst.

“No … no, that’s alright, Jared” Phil cuts in, just as Misha is lifting himself from the dirt. “We’ve been talking and we think we’re just going to cut this scene. It’s uh … it’s not working out.”

With that, Misha throws his fist into the air victoriously, and Jensen drops exhaustively to the ground with the overwhelming relief—and Jared’s disappointed moans can be heard all the way on the other side of the lake; echoing out “Aw, man!”  and “Damnit” and lamenting all the glorious opportunity that he’s just lost.

Free The Animal

Word Count: 6k

Genre: Smut, Angst (will I ever stop being emo?)

Author’s Note: You ever forget that you’re a fanfic writer then you write a fic so bad you remember how much of a hack you are? Yeah welcome to my fic :’D

dom!jungkook- fuckboi!jungkook- fuckbuddy relationship- dirty talk- thigh riding mention because damn even I am not immune to his thighs- inspired by Sia’s song and part of the song drabble game. You can find links to the rest of them on my masterlist

Loving You To Death (Sequel)

There he was with his hands up some girl’s skirt, grinding on her like he was trying to fuck her through their clothes, the fucking pig. You huff and turn to your friend who gives you an exasperated look, “___, just go and grab him by the dick and tell him he can’t fucking do that.”

“He can do whatever the fuck he wants to do, even if that is a bleach blonde bitch with a tan that makes her look like an Oompa Loompa.” That was pretty low, you admit. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Jungkook had chosen her for the night. But seriously, there was a limit to tanning, this was just harmful to the eyes.

“No, he can’t because you’re together.” Your friend, Hwasa, sounds pretty fed up with you.

“No, we’re not. We’re just fuck buddies and we agreed that we’re not exclusive right from the start.” Why wasn’t she understanding this? You’d explained it to her a thousand times.

“I don’t care what bullshit you told each other. All I care about is what I see, and that is two idiots constantly doing all they can to piss each other off because they can’t communicate like adults.”

“What are you even talking about? Jungkook is not trying to piss me off. He’s just being himself. Which is admittedly annoying in and of itself but you know…”

“Then why did he do nothing the past three days but play video games while you were off galavanting with Jin, only to start making out with some girl the minute you make an appearance?”

“He did?” You asked surprised, only to check yourself back and shrug it off. “I don’t know, he must have just not felt like it.”

“Oh my god, save me from these two idiots.” Hwasa cries then takes you by the shoulder and starts shaking you, “He’s fucking jealous because you took Jin to meet your family and not him so he’s trying to piss you off. Why? Because he likes you. And you’re pissed off. Why? Because you like him. Now can you get that through your thick skull or do I have to beat it into you?”

Keep reading

⇁plums & melons | 02

Originally posted by parkejimins

pairing⇁Jimin x Reader

genre⇁drama, smut || brother’s best friend!au

warnings⇁public indecency, masturbation, dry humping, jungkook, things that shouldn’t happen in a closet, a brief mention of tentacle porn;;

word count⇁7.3k

The long time running game between you and your brother’s best friend started when you noticed his fascination with boobs—yours specifically. It was never supposed to amount to more than harmless flirting and lingering glances, but now, one year later, Jimin was ready to change that.

alternatively: Jimin and you play a game. the loser is fucked. metaphorically. literally. all the above??

01 || 02 

Keep reading

Mr. Min - Chapter 07

Description:  Your CEO caught your attention the first day you started your new job and it seems the attraction is mutual.  Too bad he’s only interested in a relationship that benefits him.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 13079

A/N: Originally this was only the first half of chapter 7 but I wanted to get something out for you guys so I decided to split it. I hope it was worth the wait. :)

PlaylistPrologue - Ch 01Ch 02 - Ch 03 - Ch 04 - Ch 05 - Ch 06 - Ch 07

Keep reading

Bts | Reaction | Privacy

[ one can only imagine lol hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting!! ]

Rated (SM) for slightly mature.


Seokjin 

➸ There was nothing rushed during your little shower session, Jin was definitely going to take his time with you. Thankful he had time off to spend with you, he wanted to make it last for a long as he could - from slow kisses to the slow rhythm of his hips as he easily slid into your entrance. Soft moans would fall from each of your lips as they barely separated from one another, you hands caressing his face while his would travel from your thighs, hips, to waist. He didn’t leave any patch of skin untouched, neither did you. Everything about this moment was perfect and filled with bliss. It was as if the whole world had stopped for the two of you…but unfortunately, that’s unrealistic thinking. 

“Could you two stop blowing up the goddamn water bill?” 

Jin nearly drops you at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, you letting out a small squeak as he presses you even farther into the wall, his chest smushing into yours to hide you away from the sudden intruder. 

“Yah, Suga! Why didn’t you knock, that’s so rude!” 

“So is using up all the hot water. Do it in the bedroom, like normal fucking people.” 

Yoongi 

➸ You’ve been needy all day, and when he was finally home, you weren’t wasting a second more. He wasn’t complaining - hell - he was hoping you were in the mood anyways. Things didn’t take long to escalate as Yoongi had no trouble taking you from behind, smirking lazily at the sounds you didn’t even bother to cover up. 

“That’s it, baby, let me hear how good you feel…” 

Constant whispers of unholy things were enough to increase the volume of your moans, not taking into consideration that you two wouldn’t exactly be alone for much longer. Not even 30 seconds have passed when a harsh knock came to the door, but Yoongi didn’t falter into his thrusts - he didn’t even stop. As he continued to pound into you, he answered to whoever was at the door. 

“I’m busy.” 

“Yeah, we know! We all heard you from the front door! The FRONT DOOR, Yoongi! Could you keep it down a little?” 

Min Yoongi grins so devilishly at the back of your head, you could feel chills run down your spine. Gripping your hair tightly to tug your neck backward, you could now see the mischievous look in his eyes; he was up to no good. 

“Sure, no problem.” Without even missing a beat, Yoongi starts back up again at an inhuman amount of speed, finally hitting that one spot over and over again that both made you see stars, and scream at the top of your lungs. By now, the neighbors could probably hear the two of you as well. 

“Is this down enough for you?” They could practically hear his shit-eating grin, all glaring at the door as it seemed that now there was no stopping him. 

He was smart enough to lock the door. 

Namjoon 

➸ The two of you just couldn’t wait; didn’t even get fully undressed until after you stepped into the shower. Namjoon watched you intensely as he undressed you from your now drenched shirt, licking his lips at the mere sight of the water dripping down your body rapidly. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you, jagi…” He groans before pulling you closer to continue the make-out session you started in the living room. Reaching in between the two of you, you eagerly gripped his already throbbing member causing a strained moan to escape past his lips in surprise. 

Namjoon practically panted in your mouth as your pace picked up in no time, him letting you touch him for as long as you wanted as he placed one hand to the wall to keep his balance. 

“Namjoon, did you break my headphon-OH. OH OH OH I AM SO SORRY. IGNORE ME, YOU SEEM BUSY, ILL ASK LATER BYE.” Hoseok flailed, almost slipping on the rug on his way out, almost forgetting where the door knob was as he dramatically exited the bathroom. 

Both you and Namjoon stared at the door with raised eyebrows, him shrugging his shoulders while you giggled softly while shaking your head. That small interruption didn’t kill the mood at all for the two of you, as he stared down at you with lust filled eyes and a slanted smirk. 

“On your knees, babygirl.” 

Hoseok

➸ It was the end of your anniversary date, which consisted of dinner and a movie. He wanted the night to be perfect, and boy did he deliver. Hoseok was nothing but romantic and gentle with you all night, everything just all cuddly and calm. The warm water that cascaded down your still clothed figures felt so relaxing - his soft kisses that trailed from the side of your face to your neck almost had you practically melting in his arms. Your hands ran through his damp hair, while his were placed firmly on your hips, as the two of you basically slow danced in the shower. 

“You’re too good for me, Hobi…how did I get so lucky?” 

He chuckles softly, now nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. “That’s my line, jagi…I should be asking you that.” 

It didn’t take long for his sweet kisses to turn into sucks, as he marked all of your favorite spots that he’s memorized all too well. Your bite your lip to keep quiet, knowing good and well that the others were in the bed by now…or were they? 

“I’m telling you, Jin-hyung, I turned off the shower an hour ag-OH HOLY SHIT!” As quick as the door came open, it was slammed shut. You and Hoseok now stared at the door in pure horror, covering each other up - even though neither of you was naked yet. Quickly turning off the shower, Hoseok steps out right as Jin opened the door once again - only this time with his eyes covered. By now, Jungkook ran back to his room in embarrassment. 

“I don’t care what you two were about to do in here, it’s none of my business. But, for the sake of Jungkook, and my innocent eyeballs - could you lock the door next time?” 

Jimin 

➸ Just like Hoseok, it was more a soothing type of shower session between the two of you. He sat on the shower bench while you straddled his lap, your bra still intact as Jimin just teased the straps, him smiling teasingly in the kiss as you hissed at him when he would tug it far, only to then let them snap back against your wet skin. 

“Jimin, I swear to God if you do that one more time, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, baby, huh?” His smile drops as he dared you to finish that threat, the hands that were placed upon your upper back now dangerously low on your ass - giving you a warning squeeze. “Did you forget who you talking to for a moment there? Does daddy need to punish you?” 

Before you could even respond, you could see the color drain from his face as his eyes drifted to something that was behind you. Tilting your head to the side in confusion, you turn to see what he was looking at, only to let out a scream in shock. Taehyung stood there in complete horror, unfortunately walking in at the wrong time. 

“I-I…I have no words…”

“Tae…how much did you hear?” Jimin gulps, afraid that his friend might have just discovered a little too much about himself. 

“Enough to where I want to shove pencils in my ears. Dinner’s ready, by the way, but it looks to me you’re already about to eat-”

“Y A H.” Jimin exclaims, Tae shooting his hands up in surrender as he starts to exit the bathroom with still a look of horror on his face. “Don’t tell anyone about this, please. I’m begging you.”

He shrugs, a small smirk starting to creep upon his lips. “Will daddy punish me if I do-”

“sTOP.” 

Taehyung 

➸ It was, at first, a solo shower. You had just gotten home from work, your day already starting off shitty - but that really took the cake. Not only did most of your co-workers call in sick, but they did it on the day where you have the most crowds. You were practically drowning in stress that you almost punched a costumer in the face. In conclusion : worst day ever. 

The dorm was empty by the time you got there, mentally thanking the man up in the sky that at least you came home to some peace and quiet for once. The warm water was exactly what you needed, but yet it wasn’t enough to fully relax you. Sighing heavily at the fact of not being completely satisfied, you lean forward to turn the water off - feeling defeat. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of cold hand grab your waist, and spin you around did you accidentally turn it to freezing ice water before letting out a small scream. Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to seal you screams with a kiss, letting you register that it was only him as you finally calmed down. 

“You jackass, don’t do that! One of these days I’m gonna stab you!” You couldn’t help but giggle as he started placing kisses all over your face, your lips trembling as the cold water draped over your bodies. 

“With what? Soap? Your shampoo bottle?” He teased, while continuing to place kisses anywhere and everywhere. “You looked a little down, so you can’t tell me that didn’t brighten you mood up just a little bit, jagi.” 

You wanted to punch him for almost giving you a heart attack, but you were happy to see him. Taehyung was actually the last puzzle piece to help turn this sour day back to sweet. Leaning into him closer to further his pecks into something more, the door to the bathroom was practically kicked in, and in came six out of the seven members as they all rushed into the small bathroom - Jimin holding a bat, while Hoseok started swinging at the air. 

“Y/n! Are you alright?! We heard you scream and- oh.” Namjoon pushed his way in, only to see that it wasn’t what they thought at all. “Seriously? Why can’t you do this at your own place - some of us have to shower in there, too!” 

Jungkook 

➸ You moaned into his mouth shamelessly at the pleasure he was giving you, the rushed movements of your mouths only making the bathroom much more steamier than the hot water. He wanted to use up all the time he had with you, knowing that his hyungs would be home soon, Jungkook wanted to use this opportunity to make noise as much as possibly. With one hand he held your wrists together, while the other rubbed your clit in slow circles, the water giving spectacular lubrication as you whimpered at the feeling. 

“Jungkook…p-please…” 

“Please what, Y/n? You’re gonna have to be more specific~” 

“Please g-go faster, please..!” You would cry, the teasing no longer tolerable as you were now reduced to begging. You would give anything to cum, even so much as scream his name while his hyungs were home. Be careful what you wish for. 

“Jungkook, are you watching porn again?” Jimin opens the door, only for both his eyes and mouth to completely bust wide open in shock. Jungkook being Jungkook quickly pulled away from you to cover himself up - only to then realize that you were naked as well, to then cover you up away from Jimin’s amused stare. 

“J-Jimin, don’t tell Jin-hyung! W-We were just uh…saving water?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Kookie. I won’t tell him that you’re committing unholy things in his bathroom.” Not even five seconds later, “SEOKJIN! GUESS WHO’S MAKING BABIES IN YOUR SHOWER.” 

Jungkook, not even giving a shit anymore, would practically run after Jimin naked - leaving you to stand in there confused and sexually frustrated. 

|reaction masterlist|

The Wake of War

[AO3]

So.” Stiles drops back against the side of the Jeep, elbows braced and spine sinking slow against the dusty blue metal. Derek’s hovering a few feet away, at the edge of the lot, not quite ready to vanish into the night but not prepared to join with the rest of the group, either.

He needs their voices, maybe, to block out the ones in his head.

“Looks like I saved your ass again,” Stiles is saying, flashing him a crooked grin. He looks warm and bright like the rest of them, a glow of victory dancing around him that can’t quite seep into Derek’s bones. “What’s the count, now? ‘Cause I think I’m getting pretty close to earning a victory ride in that sweet new Camaro.”

Derek’s lips twitch, a snort slipping out.

“I seem to recall saving you last time.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this. At best, that was a tie.” Stiles looks so smug Derek can’t bring himself to argue, and maybe that’s the reason Stiles’ grin falls. His eyes go soft, flitting over Derek’s frame.

“I’m glad you’re ok, man. …I mean, as nice as it would have been to have my very own, hot guy lawn ornament––”

“Why did I look at her?”

He doesn’t mean to say it; flinches at his own words. His hands are too-tight fists he stretches straight with an effort, and when he looks at Stiles again the bright expression’s gone, replaced by tension and an edge of a grimace he’s trying to fight down.

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Accidental Stabbing (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You tried to stay out of trouble, really you did. But while running from Henry Bowers, you bump into the only group people who seemed to have noticed you since your arrival at Derry. One particularly stupid boy in thick glasses catches your attention as you ‘accidentally’ stab Henry. 

Warnings: Cursing, stabbing someone (I mean… duh), blood, mention of assault, mention of cult activities (it sounds worse that it is, but holy fuck I sound satanic).

Word Count: 1,312

Being a resident of Derry officially sucked ass. Seriously. You glanced behind you as you ran and saw that Henry Bowers was still close behind, shoving little kids and adults alike. Your head snapped back to face front and you prayed that your legs could carry you just a little bit more. Ever since moving here a two months ago, there were a specific group of people you knew to avoid, even if it meant always being quiet and keeping your head down. Not that you were quiet in real life, but it was best not to trigger the anger that you kept locked away. Henry shouted something about you being a slut, his voice louder and closer. Your throat was growing tight and dry but the adrenaline kept you moving, sprinting through the town, ducking under people’s arms, sidestepping old folks, trying not to trample toddlers… All because the Patrick kid from Henry’s gang thought your shorts were too small. Well he can go fuck himself. You think, pumping your arms and legs faster. Fuckin’ pervert.

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#pining!draco #parseltongue #quidditch

Prompts: @yxxn-g1
Author: @queenofthyme

There may have been fourteen players on the field but Draco only had eyes for one. Fast, lean, focused, Potter was like a bullet the way he shot across the Quidditch pitch. The other seeker didn’t stand a chance. 

“No wonder you didn’t want me to come,” Blaise said from beside Draco, breaking him from his trance.

It was true – he didn’t want Blaise to come. Some of the eighth years had set up their own Quidditch club. Draco wasn’t a part of it, of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wake up ridiculously early every morning so he could watch them, well, Potter, play.

Draco, of course – he had the worst luck, made the mistake of stepping on that creaking floorboard by Blaise’s bed – he usually avoided it but the early starts had started to make his brain a little foggy.

Blaise hadn’t been too happy at being awoken before the sun itself, but the more Draco pushed for him to go back to sleep, the more curious he had become. In the end, he insisted Draco take him with him.

Draco forced his eyes to land on another player before replying. "What do you mean by that?“

Blaise snorted. "Come on, Draco, it’s pretty obvious why you’re here.”

Draco kept his face straight ahead, avoiding Blaise’s knowing eyes. “I enjoy Quidditch.”

“Maybe you enjoy it a little too much.”

Draco averted his eyes as Potter flew into his line of vision. That was hardly his fault. He turned to Blaise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Blaise smirked. “I think you know exactly what I mean.” Blaise jerked his head out to the field. “Heads up, lover boy.”

Draco turned back to find Potter hurtling towards them, the snitch at the edge of the pitch where they sat in the stands. With his Quidditch robes flying behind him and a fierce determination in his eyes, Potter looked like a dream. In fact, Draco had had this very dream, maybe with a few minor adjustments to the rest of Potter’s clothing. (What clothing?)

Potter’s hand closed around the snitch – close enough that Draco could have leaned forward and snatched it up himself – and a low hissing sound escaped his mouth. Draco felt the sound in his entire body.

Potter twisted his broom with ease, avoiding impact with the stand, and flew back to his team, his hand raised high, showing off his win.

Draco slumped back – he had somehow found himself at the very tip of his seat, leaning into the pitch. His heart pounded against his chest, as if it wished to escape.

“What was that?” Blaise asked.

Draco waved a hand dismissively, focusing on calming his heartbeat. “It’s parseltongue. Potter use to – does speak it.”

“That’s not what I –“ Blaise paused. His voice grew mocking. “Oh no.”

Draco looked over to Blaise, alarmed. “What?”

Blaise smiled – it stretched over his face slowly. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t!” Draco crossed his legs nervously. He immediately regretted it when Blaise’s eyes were drawn to the action, widening at the implication.

“You did!” Blaise clapped his hands together. He was enjoying this. “You pervert! Potter’s snake tongue has got you all hot and bothered.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Draco insisted. “Why would – “ Draco spotted Potter flying back up to the stand and his voice faltered. The snitch was nowhere to be seen.

Blaise leaned into Draco to whisper: “Better keep your legs crossed.”

Draco blushed. “I AM NOT HA - Potter!” Draco yelled as Potter approached. “Good catch.” Great form. Amazing body.

Potter dismounted his broom, considerably less gracefully then he flew. “Thanks, Malfoy” he said, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you were - I mean, did you want to play? Is that why you’re here? Because I can – “

“I’m fine,” Draco interrupted. He didn’t fancy making a fool of himself.

“Draco prefers to watch,” Blaise added. Draco shot him a murderous look. Blaise. Was. Dead.

Luckily, Potter didn’t catch on to the meaning. He shuffled on the spot. “Oh, okay then. If you change your mind, let – “

“Why do you - when you - why do you do that?” Draco blurted out before Potter could leave.

Potter tilted his head, staring at Draco intently with puckered eyebrows, confusion clear on his face.

“He means why do you speaks parseltongue when you catch the snitch,” Blaise translated.

Potter’s face relaxed; he laughed sheepishly. “You heard that? It’s just something that happens when I’m not concentrating on what I’m saying.” Potter paused to think about it. “You know, when I’m reacting instinctively.”

“Reacting instinctively hmm?” Blaise repeated, his whole face alight. “That must happen quite a bit huh, Potter?” Blaise said with a painfully obvious wink, nudging Draco as he did.

“Yeah, actually, it’s – “ Blaise’s implication must have hit Potter a second too late. He fumbled over his words. “What are you - Oh I didn’t mean - that’s not - I mean, you don’t need to - um.” Potter closed his mouth firmly, a blush creeping over his cheeks. Draco could see the cogs in Potter’s mind working overtime, trying to find an escape. Draco felt quite the same way. Blaise was worse than dead.

“I should get back to the team,” Potter said, after a telling pause, mounting his broom.

“Bye, Potter,” Blaise said sweetly. “Draco looks forward to the opportunity to hear your parseltongue once more.”

Potter hissed again, low and breathy. Draco didn’t require a translation to know Potter was swearing.

“He means during Quidditch,” Draco quickly covered up, crossing his legs tighter and internally vowing to destroy Blaise for the most mortifying experience of his life.

“No I – “

Draco clapped a hand over Blaise’s mouth before he could ruin Draco’s day further. Draco tried to smile at Potter, his face burning.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Potter said, his face just as aflame as Draco’s. “Our next Quidditch meet,” he explained when Draco remained silent.

Draco nodded a little too enthusiastically once he understood Potter’s meaning, already anticipating the next time he might hear Potter make that hissing sound again. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Potter.”

more like this l @queenofthyme

Fuck you Holland

Series: Tom Holland Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Request by: @iamaquackson  Summarized:Tom and the Reader get into a fight and then… HOT MAKEUP SEX.

Warnings: SMUTTTT, Swearing cause it’s the best and Tom does IRL :,) DID I MENTION SMUT? SO IF YOU’RE BOTHERED PLS DON’T BOTHER READING.

Word Count: HELLA LONG 2,500 + Felt in a descriptive mood in the beginning x)

A/N: I reached 1.7k today OMG THANKS FAM FOR ALL THE LOVE & SUPPORT


[Reader’s POV]


   Tonight you were going out to a club with Tom and Harrison. You couldn’t wait for a drink, it’d been a long day and you needed it. Tom had an interview and wanted to go out to drink. Harrison was with him today and it was always fun with the both of them.


   You were currently getting ready for tonight looking through your closet. Sliding the hangers to the side as you looked at some of Tom’s favorite things he liked you to wear. You were getting laid tonight after not seeing him for two weeks. It was going to happen, you needed it.

     The dress you picked was a black short dress that fit you perfectly. You called it the holy grail dress cause Tom’s hands are all over you whenever you wear it. Slipping it on you look at yourself in the mirror.  Turning around to see it hugging your ass , a grin on your face at the sight. Reaching for your heels you set them on the floor.  Bending over you pick up the heel that tipped over.


“Fucking hell, you’re wearing the dress” Tom’s voice comes from behind you making you look. His gaze is glued to your barely covered ass.


“Yeah I am, now lets go and have fun” you smile slipping on your heels and walking out of the closet. Tom quickly following behind you smacking your ass hard. A yelp leaves your lips as you see your boyfriend run towards the front door.


“Bitch!” you shout at him rubbing the stinging feeling away.


“Jerk!” He sticks his tongue out at you before opening the door.


-


    The music vibrated to your bones as you danced along to the music. Your feet were aching but you were not taking these expensive heels off. A smile on your face as you danced with Tom. His hands slid down your body from starting at your breasts down to your hips. You could feel how hard he was as you were grinding against him.


    Your back was against firm chest as your hips swayed to the beat. Harrison was in the corner making out with some random red haired girl. A few people recognized Tom but haven’t bothered him. Women stared at him like he was a piece of meat. Turning around in his arms you pull his shirt. Crashing your lips against his in a needy kiss. His hand caresses your face as his other grips your ass tightly.


    A small moan leaves your lips as he lifts your leg to wrap around his waist. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest. Tom bites your lower lip tugging it a bit. Tangling your fingers in his curls pulling them a bit. Tom lets your leg go once Harrison walks over with the red haired girl. 


    You were left panting in Tom’s arms as him and Harrison yelled at each other to hear each other. Giving up of trying to hear each other the four of you walk back over to the seating area. The red haired girl holding onto Harrison, her eyes practically eye fucking him. Your lips were red and tingly from the intense makeout session with Tom.


“Mate, we’re going to head out.. see you for our workout sesh tomorrow” Harrison hugs Tom before walking away with the girl.


“I n-need a drink, I’ll be back baby” you kiss Tom on lips before walking away from him. You head over to the bar pushing through the crowd of people. Making your way to the bar you grab a bartenders attention. Holding onto the bar for support due to your feet aching. 


“What can I get you,it’s on the house” He grins looking down at you, jesus he’s tall. He sends you a wink leaning against the bar counter. Smiling up at him you ask him for two shots of tequila and a Corona. 


    Pouring the shots for you he sets them down. You take them quickly biting into the lime that was placed beside the glasses on a small dish.  He hands you the beer that you gladly take. Taking a couple of sips sighing from the feeling of the alcohol buzzing through your system.


    Holding the beer as you make your way back to see something that makes your blood boil. Another woman was with Tom, her hands all over him. His eyes widen when he sees your figure behind her. Before he can even say anything you yank her hair pulling her backwards. 


    Pulling down so she falls on her ass, her stiletto breaking from the fall. Her face holds fear as she tries to get up. You place your heel on her chest making her stop moving. The look in her eyes held fear , people around you started to form.


“I don’t know who the fuck you are but if I ever see you around Tom again I won’t stop from breaking a bottle on your whore head” your tone full of venom as you pour your beer down on her face. She struggles but your heel digs into her chest making her cry in pain. Her coughing as she choked on the alcohol filled the air.


“Babe, stop people are recording” Tom pulls your arm pulling you off the woman. Turning around you get out of his grasp throwing your empty beer bottle on the ground. The glass shattering flying in different directions.


“I’m leaving Tom” your eyes filling with tears as you shove people out of the way. Your legs shakily walking as fast as they could towards the entrance. Tom calling after you making you grit your teeth. 


     Walking out into the chilly night air made your buzz end immediately. The wind blows your hair behind your hair behind your shoulders. You knew where Tom lived and would walk until you could get an uber or something. The sound of your heels clicking filled the London air. A shiver running down your spine as another gush of wind blew by. 


    A car was slowly driving next to you as you walked. Looking over to see Tom’s Audi slowly driving next to you. The window rolling down to show Tom looking at you. Cars were lining up behind him but you didn’t care.


“Darling,get in the car please!”Tom begs as you keep walking down the sidewalk. You couldn’t even stand to look at his face right now.


    The car stops and Tom gets out causing cars to honk. He walks over to you lifting you over his shoulder effortlessly. Damn his strength. Your legs thrashing as he carried you to the Audi. 

    Opening the car door he tosses me into the back seat .Locking the door till he gets to his side of the car. Unlocking it he gets in keeping it locked making you pout in the back seat. The whole car ride home was dead silent.


-


“She was all over you Tom” you rip your hand out of his. If you could see a color it would be red. He knew how you felt when you went out together. She was practically grinding on him.


“Wait, are you going to blame me? You’re not as innocent as you think darling” Tom seethes walking into right after you. Snapping your head in his direction so fast your hair flipped over your shoulder. Your eyes narrowing into slits over at your boyfriend.


“Fucking excuse me? ” You snap walking up to him poking his toned chest with your maroon acrylic nail. Is he trying to seriously turn this on you?


“You were practically flirting with the bartender for drinks, don’t think I didn’t see..” Tom’s posture changing into a tense stance. His face held anger just like yours.You didn’t even flirt with the bartender? What the fuck.


“Fuck you Holland” you slap him across the face leaving a handprint on his cheek. The slap hurting your hand cause part of your palm hit his jawline. Adrenaline pumping through your veins watching as Tom’s chest rose up and down quicker.


“Fuck you” he grits out through his teeth. Your hand was trembling as you reached for the ring on your left hand. Taking it off you throw it at his chest making it ricochet off somewhere else.


“Take your ring Tom, I knew you weren’t ready to commit” tears were falling down your cheeks as you head towards the bedroom. Anxiety was flowing through you as you headed towards the closet. Kicking off the heels Tom got you and reaching for your suitcase.


“Angel, please it wasn’t what you thought, I swear I didn’t even have my hands on her… She was so damn perss-”


“We’re fucking engaged Tom and you even let her get near you like that?” you laugh grabbing clothes and throwing them in the suitcase. Fear was sketched over his features as he watched you pack. You two have never gotten into a heated argument like this, let alone pack a bag.


“Angel,listen to me dammit!” Tom grips your body pulling it to his. Feeling his hands cup your cheeks making you look at him. Your eyes lowering to his lips as he talked but you tuned him out. Gripping his head pulling his face to yours pressing your lips against his. 


    Your mouths move in a perfect sync as he pushes your body against the wall. A gasp leaves your lips when your back hits the wall. Tom takes the advantage of sliding his tongue into your mouth. His hand lifting your leg around his waist. 


“T-Tom” you moan out as his lips move to your neck. The feeling of him sucking the skin made your knees weak and you dripping wet. That is your weak spot and he knows it.


    His hands reach behind you unzipping the dress letting it fall down to the floor. Your body naturally chilled when the air touches your skin. His body heat instantly warming your skin up. His lips leave a trail down your body leaving you a breathless mess. 


    Watching as he slid your thong down your thighs . Stepping out of them he throws them to the side. Lifting your leg above his shoulder you place your hands on the wall for some kind of support. Lord knows you’re going to need it.


“God, you’re so fucking beautiful..” His voice low with arousal as he kisses the inside of your thigh. Feeling his lips moving slowly towards where you wanted him the most. He bites the inside of your thigh making your head tilt back.


“I-I’m still mad at y-” your sentence being cut off by his tongue licking up your slit swirling around your clit. A moan fills the air as you grip onto his curls. Looking down he sends a wink up at you making your legs wobble. His fingers sliding into your dripping pussy as he slowly pumps them in and out of you.


“Still mad at me Angel?” he asks giving your clit a kiss,still pumping his fingers in and out of you picking up a faster pace. The eye contact between the two of you made your breath hitch in your throat. Your hips were moving involuntarily needing more than just his fingers.


“F-Fuck Tom I-I” you couldn’t even form a sentence. Gripping his curls as pleasure builds up inside of you. Your stomach tightens as you feel the urge to cum.


   His fingers withdrawing from inside you making a whimper escape your lips. Tom lifts you up carrying you to the bed. Laying you down on the soft black comforter. He strips himself of his shirt unbuttoning it slowly. Sliding his shirt off letting it fall to the floor behind him. Your eyes watching his muscles move as he undressed himself.


He is a work of art.


   Tom gets on the bed positioning himself in between your legs. He groans as he slides the tip of his cock up and down your slit. Your breathing was shaky from the endorphins running through your body. He places his his forearm next to your head as he slides into you. A moan escapes Tom as he fills you up completely. 


“P-Please” you mumble against his neck.


   Veins prominent as he clenched his jaw tight,thrust going in and out of you quickly.His free hand grasped your hip tight, nails digging into your skin. Wrapping your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Moans were falling from your lips as he pounded into you.


   Gripping onto his back scratching your nails down his back. Tom hisses from you scratching his back, thrusts becoming deeper as he angled your hips up. Moans filled the air as he pounded into you, pleasure pulsing in your veins. Tom’s lips crash down on yours in a passionate kiss. His thrusts slowing down but hitting you deep still. 


   Running your fingers through his soft curls as the two of you kissed. A moan escaping you causes you to break the kiss. Your head turning to the side as his thumb rubs circles on your clit. Hot wet kisses were placed on your neck leaving you a panting mess. This man would be the death of you, how could you stay mad at him through all of this?


“You know you’re my girl right?” Tom breathes against your neck, his breath making your sore neck twinge. His hands grab yours entwining them place them beside your head. Tilting your hips up he goes deep hitting your g-spot repeatedly.


“Y-yes Tom, I’m yours” you moan out squeezing his hands as the pleasure built up inside you. Your legs were shaking from how close you were.


“Fuckin’ hell” Tom moans into your neck his thrusting getting faster. You could tell he was getting close because he was getting more and more vocal. The headboard banging against the wall the faster he went.


“I’m gonna cum” you whimpered as Tom rested his forehead against yours.Reaching down he starts rubbing your clit in quick circles.


    Taking your free hand to place it on the side of his cheek. Guilt sinking your chest for slapping him earlier. Your thoughts being interrupted as your orgasm sends a wave of pleasure over you. Tom slows his thrusts as he releases letting out a low moan. You laid there panting as Tom rolls off of you. 


    Sitting up then falling back down on the bed due to fatigue hitting you like a bag of bricks. Tom gives you a quick kiss before getting off the bed. Your eyes staring at his ass cause it’s perfection. He grabs a pair of sweatpants from the floor slipping them on. 


    Tom tosses you his button up which you put on. Getting off the bed, your legs wobbling a bit as you walk over to a mirror buttoning the shirt up. Your curls were deflated and into waves now, your reflection wasn’t as bad as you thought. Tom leaves the room making a pain in your heart start to form. Looking over at your suitcase on the floor with clothes thrown carelessly into it.


“Now darling… I know you’re upset with me, but can you please forget about what happened tonight? I didn’t want her on me because I have you.. I chose you to spend the rest of my life with,not her.. Now I’m going to ask you again and pray you still love me.. will you marry me and be Mrs. Holland?” Tom asks holding up your engagement ring you threw earlier. 


    Nodding with tears in your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck pressing your lips against his. He smiles grabbing your hand and slipping your ring back where it’s supposed to be. Placing your hand on his cheek he turns his head giving the palm a kiss. 


“I love you,Bitch” you grin at Tom playfully,a snicker following after.


“I love you,Jerk” he winks lifting you over his shoulder running towards the kitchen. The only sounds that filled the house was laughter, funny remarks and some Netflix.. maybe some chilling too..


A/N: Guess which tv show I was watching while I was typing this..